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When I finished these pants and ran upstairs from my craft room to see how they looked with shoes, I got so hyped when I saw myself in the mirror that I started dancing in my bathroom, and I managed to press record on my phone just in time to capture it. This is how the idea of a hashtag joyously celebrating a sewist’s Lander Pants completion officially began on instagram, and with the help of a few lovely sewists who chimed in to suggest it be a thing (including the awesome designer of the pants herself!), LanderPantsDance went viral!!!!

But I’ve been tagged in AT LEAST 4 posts of other sewists dancing in their Lander Pants, and that’s enough for me, haha!

What can I say about these pants?? First of all, I was SO STOKED when True Bias released the design. They happened to be the spitting image of a pair of wide legged jeans I tried to hack early this year only to watch them suffer a bizarre and untimely demise when the front legs twisted so dramatically in the front that the side seams traveled across the fronts of my legs. Only thing I can come up with is that they were cut severely off-grain, but…they weren’t! I know, because I was there! Anyways, that WIP has been languishing in the Butthole Bin for the longest, so when I saw the design for the Lander Pants, I realized that my dreams of owning a 70’s inspired pair of wide legged trousers could still be a reality for me! Weirdly enough, I didn’t make them in denim, but more on that later.

I made these pants in less than two days, and I have to say, the fit is pretty terrific. It helps that they have such wide legs, so after you get the shaping and fitting for the waist and hips right, the rest is a breeze. But also know that I have read Heather Lou of Closet Case Files’ e-book for jeans making and blog posts about pants fitting extensively, so all the successes I have with pants is 100% due to her (if you are stressed about/unsure of the process, read her materials! They are concise, easy-to-comprehend, and most importantly, they work!)

One thing I learned from Heather’s series of how-tos is that I need to draft a curved waistband for pretty much any fitted pants design I want to wear. I actually just use the same pattern piece from the Ginger Jeans that I adapted for my body, and I sub it in for other pants patterns that have roughly the same waistband size. Instead of a straight or very slightly curved rectangle for the waistband, which works on many bodies that don’t have a big difference between their waist and hips, I redrafted it so that the top of the waistband has a deeper curve, which allows it to lay right up against my waist instead of gaping like pretty much every RTW pair of pants does on me. I used this waistband on my Landers and of course it worked a real treat!

For a round bottomed girl, I thought these pants fit pretty great right out the box. I didn’t do much adjusting with them after using my curved waistband; I think I brought in the back seam just a bit at the very top at the waist, and when I make them again I might 1. dig out a tiny bit of room in the back crotch curve for the teeniest bit more space and 2. elongate the fly (why I didn’t do this from the beginning I have no idea- sometimes I like to try the original pattern as-is before making too many drastic changes to it but I need to be real with myself- a longer fly front on pants is pretty much a necessity for me across the board). My favorite thing about the pattern is that the leg pieces are drafted with a 1 inch seam allowance on the outside seams so that you can baste and fit as you are going, which was incredibly helpful! I muslined these pants and I needed to add about a 1/4 inch more room at the side seams around the thickest part of my body, but that was just to ensure that I maintained a 5/8 seam allowance- I definitely could have made the adjustment with the pants pattern pieces as drafted.

As is well-documented here on this blog, I am not crazy about wearing black clothing (how Katie from What Katie Sews does it so brilliantly, I will never know!) and this make honestly did little to change my mind. The fabric itself is brilliant- perfect weight, easy to sew with, feels soft but sturdy- I just wish it was in a different color, and unfortunately black was all I could find when I was shopping for corduroy. Why did I choose corduroy instead of denim, you may ask? No idea. In my quest for a beautiful and versatile fall wardrobe, corduroy kept popping up for me so I just kind of stuck with it- I thought it would be a fun textile and a nice change from denim. But in addition to the color just not doing it for me personally, I think it also hides all the cool details of these pants (textile included) which is what got me so excited about making them in the first place. You can’t really see how cute the big patch pockets are on the fronts, can’t see the meticulously sewed topstitching on the waistband and pockets and belt loops- I feel like the dark color just sucks up all the extra cool things about this make. But it’s ok! I am just going to consider them a wearable muslin (because I still think they are super cute and I know I will get some wear out of them) and make my next pair in the washed denim that I originally envisioned them in! And then I can also put a tiny bit more room in the crotch and lengthen the fly front so that getting in and out of the pants is easier.

Speaking of fly fronts, this button fly was the first I had ever constructed and it was SO fun! After making so many jeans I have become pretty confident with inserting a zip fly, but for some reason I was anxious about a button fly- probably just because it was a journey into the unknown. But I shouldn’t have been worried at all; the button fly was way easier and quicker to construct than a zip fly and I absolutely love the way it looks. The instructions for the fly, as with everything else, were super easy to follow and well thought out, and I honestly couldn’t believe how quickly this pattern came together. They were a dream to sew! I decided to use the longer view of the design (they also come in a cropped and shorts length) and then I added a few extra inches because I wanted my hems to cover my shoes and just barely skim the ground, which the longest view of this pattern does not do. It was an easy fix and I am happy with the length. The only real thing I am unhappy about with these pants (aside from the color) is the fear that my thighs are going to start a fire every time I walk around. The zipzipzipzip sound is deafening! I forgot what a weirdo fabric corduroy can be, but whatever- people won’t even notice it when they are so bowled over by this wicked FIT! 😉

Well, bless it! The sewing community has come through again with a rush of encouragement, appreciation, and smoke blown up my bum, this time in the form of an invitation to join the illustrious Refashioners Blog Tour! For those unfamiliar, the refashioners take on an annual challenge of refashioning some specific type of garment into something new and (hopefully) improved. My introduction to the group was maybe a year or so ago when the theme of the refashion was ” jeans”, which obviously conjures up all kinds of possibilities, and the sewing bloggers who participated did NOT disappoint! This year’s theme is “Suits Me” and you can only imagine my amazement when coordinators Portia and Elisalex asked me to join their talented group of contributors. Although I have certainly re-worked an old garment or two in my past with some mending or re-hemming, I don’t actually have any experience with completely revising a garment from top to bottom, and I wondered briefly if my skillset would translate at this level of talent. Fortunately, the thought was quickly replaced with “You’re trycurious, damnit!”, and I quickly wrote Portia back to thank her for the consideration and to tell her to please count me in!

First up? Finding my suit! This was the most time consuming part of the challenge for me, since I don’t buy much clothing at all other than shoes and am out of the loop with the good consignment and vintage shops in LA. My only parameters for the suit were for it to be inexpensive (which can be a real feat in price-jacked Los Angeles) and I wanted it to be made of a quality material, namely NO POLYESTER, which has a tendency to absorb funky smells easily and makes me sweat like a Trump supporter reading Black Twitter. I spent days reading Yelp reviews of vintage shops around the city and jotting down their addresses when, on a whim, I decided to drive to Out of the Closet, a well-known chain of thrift stores in the city whose proceeds go to supporting LGBTQ and AIDS affected communities. It’s clean and well-stocked and I walked straight to their rack of suits and rifled through the thirty or so they had on display; within 10 minutes I had found my match- a black and white birdseye 100% wool two-piece that was several sizes too big for me, leaving me what I hoped would be plenty of room to play around with. The suit cost only $25 and if memory serves correct, one of the tags said the suit was made in Malaysia with Italian wool. The designer tag said “Andre Vachon”.

I didn’t think long and hard about what was to become of this suit before I pulled out my seam ripper, I just sat down on the couch and began taking it apart while watching season 2 of Last Chance U. At the end of a few episodes I had a pile of fabric puzzle pieces at my feet and a smaller discard pile consisting of things like lining and pockets. I decided straight away not to salvage the lining because, although the suit itself was made of what seemed like a good quality wool, the lining was a cheap acetate that I wanted no part of. I saved the buttons, too, though they were also cheap. I was amazed at how complicated the innards of the jacket looked once the lining was removed. I had seen and worked on certain elements of tailoring a jacket like this from books and websites, but I had never seen the handiwork up close and personal before. So many interfacings and pad stitched hair canvas, my goodness! I got rid of what I could but kept the interfacing on the front pieces because I figured they would offer whatever I ended up making a bit more structure.

As I took the suit apart, a solid image of the suit’s potential began to take shape. Thanks to the awesome suit-inspired pinterest board that the Refashioners had set up, I had lots of ideas floating around in my head, but I also wanted to keep in line with how the suit originated. As I mentioned, I had never taken on this kind of project before, so maintaining some simplicity and honoring the original architecture of the garment seemed like a good vibe to follow.

What if I just slightly altered the concept of The Suit, which has a tendency to feel a little stuffy and buttoned up? What if I took The Suit and made it a little more casual, a little more comfortable, a little more current and applicable to the needs of my life and career (which, as a professional actor, has virtually no dress code whatsoever)? If you follow my blog at all then you know that this concept is not out of the ordinary for me, as I just recently finished making a Jacket + Shorts outfit that upends the classic idea of a tailored two piece. I wanted this new refashioned suit to do the same thing, but I had to adhere to certain rules, namely sticking with the traditional suiting fabric it was made of, and incorporating some of the original design details in the suit that would prove impossible to work around.

The idea of a kimono jacket suddenly popped into my head, which I heartily latched onto. Maybe because it was one of the most recent patterns I had added to my stash? Or because the kimono silhouette, relaxed and so easy to wear, seems to be everywhere right now? (Although kimonos have certainly been fashionable and culturally relevant for far longer than when us westerners got hip to them)! A kimono provided an interesting twist to the idea of a classic suit jacket but the two still felt connected to me- both garments look structured and traditional, and they both feel like cultural identifiers. Kimono robes, at least the ones I have worn, are so comfortable, yet something about those wide sleeves that jut out from the body look very presentational to me. Couple that with the elegance of the band that flows around the neck and down the fronts of the jacket- a band that has the same visual impact of a necktie, but of course, looser, and perhaps more inviting. The more I thought about it, the more I loved the beauty and symbolism of subbing a kimono for a suit jacket, but who is paying attention to symbolism when you’re trying to refashion a garment into something wearable?

I am, damnit!

Once I settled on the kimono jacket, it made sense to make myself another pair of pants out of the suit bottoms, but obviously a pair that would fit me well and look good with the larger frame of the top- perhaps something high waisted with a slim leg. So that was it- I had my design! Now I just had to implement it.

With all my fabric pieces separated from their siblings and the seam allowances ironed out, I cut out the paper pattern for my jacket (I used McCalls 7200) and tried to figure out how to use them with the meager amount of fabric I had. It really was like trying to solve a puzzle! Looking at the suit on the hanger in Out of the Closet, I thought I was going to have yards upon yards of fabric to work with, but once the suit was deconstructed, I had much less to play with. I pulled out a couple of yards of black tencel from my stash that LA Finch Fabrics had kindly gifted me over the summer and planned to use it to supplement what I couldn’t create with the wool.

It took a while, but eventually I came up with a plan for the pattern pieces. I didn’t have enough fabric to make a full sleeved kimono as I had intended, but I didn’t mind; instead, I would use suit scraps to apply binding to the edges of my short sleeves, giving it a more finished look. I used the fronts of the original suit jacket for the fronts of my kimono, and because I didn’t have much room to play with, I kept the front welt pockets and darts intact. The pockets are functional, though very thin (actually perfect for glasses!) and although I tried to fight the inclusion of those details at first, I quite like them now. I love that echoes of the original suit are still peeking their way into the refashion in unexpected ways, like the breast pocket/handkerchief slot at the top of the suit jacket- when sewn up into my kimono the breast pocket ends up as a shoulder pocket on me, but you know what? That’s kind of a cool design detail! I feel like it’s something Rachel Comey might utilize, haha. And of course I chose to highlight this detail by sticking a little matching handkerchief inside it, lest it go unnoticed!

I had to do a lot of hacking to make the back pattern pieces and yoke for the jacket work- I didn’t have any original suit pieces large enough to accommodate them so I halved the pattern pieces on the fabric I had left, added seam allowances, and worked with them as if the jacket had a center back seam. Easy peasy. I used my black tencel for the band since I didn’t have enough suiting fabric, and I really like how it softens the stiffness of the jacket, and, as mentioned earlier, gives a bit of a symbolic nod to a more traditional necktie which is usually paired with a suit jacket. I used french seams for all exposed jacket seams and serged the hem before turning it up and hand stitching it down.

The jacket came together relatively quickly and I’m not gonna lie, I was really feeling myself at this stage of the refashion! I was like ‘oh, girl- you GOT this! You have SKILLS and you are SLAYING this challenge!’

But then it was time to work on the pants.

Cue horror music ending with a blood curdling scream.

I have had some great success making pants this year! The Palmer Pletsch method of tissue fitting was super helpful to me once I moved on from stretch jeans to slacks, and, having successfully nailed down the fit more than once of my most hated pattern brand, BUUUURDA, I felt confident that I could tackle a suit refashion with no problems! Unfortunately I made the mistake of using a pattern I had not tested out before. The pattern I chose, Burda #118 01/2015, has pleats with a plain waistband in the front, and in the back, an elastic waistband gathers the excess material instead of darts, which is a look I have loved for a while but never attempted to create myself. I tissue fit the pattern pieces for the pants, hoping to achieve a slim fit in the leg, and once I was happy with them, I proceeded to cut out my suit fabric

Here is the tragic retelling rundown of everything that went wrong how I Tim Gunned my pants:

The fit of the original suit pants was gigantic on me, but when I deconstructed them I had much less fabric to work with than I thought I would, meaning there was little to no room for error.

I eliminated the pleats in the front of the pants thinking that the wool fabric from my suit wasn’t drape-y enough to keep them looking right.

The suit pants had back welt pockets that were impossible to work with because of their placement- I tried hard to integrate the pockets as-is into my refashion, but because I intended to have a gathered, elasticized waistband in the back, the bulky welt pocket openings wouldn’t lay flat on my body and looked ridiculous.

I decided to get rid of the welt pockets and openings to accommodate my back elasticized waistband. Of course that meant I would have huge gashes in the fabric right on my butt, so I planned to construct large patch pockets to cover the cut fabric (I also interfaced the pocket openings and used my machine’s darning stitch to cover them and keep them from stretching out/ripping further).

With pockets omitted, I constructed the waistband for the pants using the original waistband. I removed the belt loops and used my tencel as a facing for the waistband. I sewed one edge of the elastic to the side seam of one side of the waistband, then tried the pants on so that I could cut my elastic to fit my waist. One look in the mirror and I realized that the decision to gather the back waistband was bad bad bad. I should have known the fabric would look way too bulky when pushed onto elastic, given that I omitted the front pleats for the same reason. But sometimes you have to see it to believe it!

I changed the design of the pants, ditching the elastic back waistband idea for a more streamlined look with darts in the back. Which meant that I now needed a closure for the pants (the previously planned elastic waist meant I could just pull them up- in theory anyways, but when I tested them out I could barely squeeze them over my hips)!

Enter: two darts on either side of the center back seam, and I also opened a side seam so that I could apply a zipper (I didn’t use the original zipper that came with the suit pants as it was just a cheap, regular plastic dress zipper and I prefer metal zippers for pants).

The addition of these design elements requires a second a third a fourth an outlandish number of fit alterations of the pants, so I end up removing the waistband several times to do things like raise the rise of the pants, make way for a side zipper, change the curve of the waistband, take the side seams in (over and over again), cut up the waistband to accommodate all the changes, etc. This is where my waistband starts looking like frankenstein.

I notice, not for the first time, that the waistbands of men’s pants have a center back seam, while literally NONE of the women’s pants I have worn/bought in recent memory comes equipped with the same. I can’t imagine why they don’t- a center back seam at the waistband means that if you want to give yourself or take away room in the waist area of your pants, all you have to do is open the center back seam and remove/add fabric to the seam without having to fuss with cutting the waistband up or opening the side seams. What gives? I am determined to remember this detail and cut all my future waistbands with a center back seam!

I should have taken out some length at the hip line of the pants during my tissue fit phase, but it’s too late to do that now, so I keep bringing the crotch in more more more so I don’t look like I have a diaper on.

Where am I? What day is it? Am I still working on these pants? What are pants??? What…is…life???

WHAT ARE PANTS, I ASK YOU???

The fit at this point is about as good as it’s gonna get, so I can now start focusing on how to cover up the horrendous slashes from the welt pockets in the back. I had decided that big patch pockets would cover them up nicely, but of course, because of the weird positioning of the welts which are very high and close to the side seams, this is easier said than done. On one side of the pants I am able to cover the welt completely with the large pocket, but I can’t seem to get it even on the other side without the slash from the welt peeking through on the side.
And here is where I achieve my proudest moment in this make. I spy the black designer tag from the inside of the jacket chillin’ on the edge of my cutting table- I saved it because I thought it would have been fun to position the Andre Vachon tag and my own TryCurious tag together somewhere inside of the garment, but now it looks like the perfect way to conceal the cut from the welt pocket. I fold the tag and place it inside of the pocket so that just the AV emblem is peeking out of the side, which perfectly covers up the cut and looks like a design element I have seen on a million RTW garments before.
Because the tag is black, it matches the wool fabric and looks intentional. I sew the edges down onto the wool to ensure that it won’t flip up and reveal the cut underneath, and for extra good measure, I sew a button through the pant leg to the top of the pockets, holding the open edge down. Because the cuts are so close to the top of the pocket edge, they have a tendency to slide into view and I want to make sure that they stay covered. This makes the pockets less functional, but I don’t mind, as I’m not a big back pocket user. Besides, the pockets were only added to cover up the cuts in the first place.

I reattach all the belt loops around the waistband thinking they will help cover up some of the mad piecing together of this pattern piece, which has so many seams in it at this point that I could just refer to it as a quilt. Pants are tried on to scrutinize my handiwork. Belt loops are immediately removed because they look too distracting.

I tack down the zipper tape, hand stitch a blind hem in the pants legs, and…I’m done? My pants saga is over? Could it be???

As a final result the pants are… not terrible! Ha! But of course there is room for improvement. The zipper on the side of the pants is wavy, which, in my experience, means the seams need to be stabilized with stay or twill tape. The big patch pockets on the back of the pants don’t look as bad as I thought they would (they remind me of the 70’s when all pants seemed to be extremely high waisted and pockets were positioned halfway up the wearer’s back!), but I am not crazy about the way that they peek out underneath the kimono jacket. This could have been avoided if the jacket was the length that I initially wanted it to be (a few inches longer), but of course I was constrained by the amount of fabric that the suit gave me to work with and I couldn’t squeeze any more length out. I ironed out the creases that were originally in the suit pants because I don’t like the way creases on pants fronts look on me when they don’t disappear into a waist dart, and I omitted the darts to keep the front looking crisp and clean. However I think they look fine without the creases, and I love the slightly tapered ankle length.

My last and final decision for this make was to add a belt for the kimono jacket, because the silhouette just looks way better to me when the waist is cinched in. Thankfully I was able to use most of the jacket collar for this piece (and it was already interfaced!); my pile of suit pattern pieces dwindled quickly- pretty much everything I had left was small or curved and I really didn’t want to have to make a belt comprised of 32 seams to rival my waistband, LOL.

As for the styling of this outfit, I have no idea what initially sparked me to pair it with this Esplanade Bra from Orange Lingerie, but once the main pieces of the jacket were completed and I was ready to try it on, it was the very first thing I grabbed from my closet (the strapless bra is gorgeous and since I have made it twice now, I am planning on blogging about it, but til then, know that this one was made with a kit from the wonderful TailorMadeShoppe’s etsy store) ! I’m sure it has a little something to do with the fact that I had just recently finished making the bra in a different fabric as a bustier to pair with a skirt (coming to the blog soon!), so the look was fresh in my mind. Either way, I tried it on and it immediately conjured up images of a 90’s Madonna, with her baggy suit pants and torpedo bra. The bra shows a fair amount of skin, so pairing it with this suit feels unexpected, but I still really like it. The lines of the front of the jacket do a great job of revealing just a tiny bit of the surprise that’s underneath, and it also ties in well with this Budoir For the Streets theme I have going on. For me, the idea of a kimono robe draped over a stately, beautifully shaped bra in pinks and reds is totally incongruous to the look of a black and white wool birdseye men’s suit, but surprisingly, the two together really work.

And that’s it, folks! I finished this project in record time, mostly because I was obsessed with getting it done as soon as I started working on it- I didn’t want to procrastinate and then be stressed out trying to problem solve at the last minute. I like my sewing to be fun and pressure-free! Plus, my job can take me out of town with little more than a day’s notice, and I hated the thought of being in the middle of this refashion with a deadline looming and then having to hop on a plane. As a whole, I am so happy with how this make turned out- I tried really to hard to create something that I would actually wear at some point in the future, not just something that would suffice for this challenge, and with that, I think I have succeeded. There are definitely some little things about the make that bug me, like, as I mentioned before, the pants pockets not being totally covered up by the jacket, and how there are lots of teeny tiny tears and holes throughout the wool fabric, which couldn’t be avoided- most of them came from the holes that were leftover after I carefully removed buttons, seams, welt pockets, etc. It’s just par for the course when you’re working with fabric that has already been manipulated into a garment. Fortunately, this just adds even more character to an ensemble that already has a pretty remarkable story. I feel so grateful to have been able to participate in this challenge, pushing myself out of my comfort zone and proving that I have both the creative chops and skillset to compete with the rest of The Refashioners, so here is a big thank you to Portia and Elisalex for believing in my abilities and inviting me into the fold- this has been such a blast and I feel very proud 🙂

Click here to stay up to date with The Refashioners 2017, see all the other inspiring refashions AND find out how you could win an amazing prize!

I’ve known about Megan Nielsen’s patterns for a while, but the only one I had in my pattern stash was the Cascade Skirt, which I accidentally didn’t get enough fabric for when I tried to make it years ago, so I had to cut the pieces out incorrectly and piece them together in an attempt to save the project- it was wonky but it might have worked if I hadn’t tried to use a rolling hem foot (which I had never used before) on very my lightweight fabric. The hem was a disaster and I’m still unsure why- maybe the wrong fabric coupled with inexperience with a foot that requires a bit more precision than usual? Whatever the reason, by this time in the skirt making process I was completely fed up- the fabric had been gnawed, puckered and split in so many places at the hem that it looked beyond saving, so I threw it out, saving as many pieces of the fabric as I could and moved on to something else. None of this of course had to do with the pattern itself but I felt so disappointed in the project that I kind of just tuned out anything that reminded me of it.

Thankfully enough time has passed and my sewing ego has recuperated enough to recognize that the failure was all mine and my heart is open once again to Megan’s beautiful designs, which I must admit, are much more eye-catching than ever with her recent pattern and website rebranding. Amazing what a huge effect that has on the consumer! So now I am digging through her archives to see what other designs I might have skimmed over or dismissed in the past (and for the record, I have every intention of giving the Cascade Skirt another try as soon as I find the right fabric for it).

When Megan announced the Flint Pants pattern on instagram, I thought fate must be intervening because I had only a few days before drawn out a bunch of pattern silhouettes and designs for projects on my Sewing TO-DO list. A had a fancy wide legged trouser pattern drawn out in addition to another culotte-ish wide leg pant that I intended to wear more casually.

I had an idea of the pattern that I wanted for the culottes but I wasn’t quite sold on it- it was a random pattern that I bought at a Big 4 Sale and it was cute enough but I wasn’t sure if that was the look I actually wanted or if it was just the pattern I had (common sewist’s dilemma, I’m sure). So when Flint came into my line of vision and I was immediately hooked on the sleek look of the fit coupled with the casual feeling of the pants, I figured I should abandon my earlier instinct and go with my gut. And I am so glad that I did!

It’s funny to talk about how I was drawn to this pattern because of the casual feeling it embodies when I sewed mine up in such a non-casual fabric. But I was in LOVE with this fabric when I first saw it at The Fabric Store and I wanted to sew something up in it right away. Once I made the pants and discovered how much I loved the fit of the pattern, I knew I would be making them up again in the future so I didn’t feel bad that my first version came out a little fancier than intended. The fabric is an extraordinary cotton silk which has a crisp hand and a very soft sheen (softer than what shows up in these photos). It feels silky and soft to the touch but not as precious as say, a charmeuse- it feels wearable without feeling dressed down. The colors are what put it over the edge into heart-eyes-emoji territory though; this is a blue that I don’t see a lot. I don’t know how to describe it, but it has a slight darkness to it, a tiny bit of midnight blue and gray mixed together (this is actually my favorite color for a house and when we get ours repainted I will have to work long and hard to convince Claire to let us go in this direction). Anyways, I don’t have a lot of blue in my wardrobe because it’s not a color that I am drawn to very often, but this pretty shade coupled with that pop of pink in the flowers? SWOON!

Again, these pants came out more fancy than I intended, and I am really in love with that bleached denim pair on the pattern envelope so I have a feeling those might be next for me, although the closer it gets to summer the more insufferable wearing pants will be in this city, so I might have to compromise and make shorts for my next version of this pattern. I’m sticking to the soft, bleached denim look, though- if I can find it!

As a make, these pants were incredibly fast and easy to sew up and the instructions were excellent and left me with only one head-scratching moment (which I pretty quickly figured out, as it came from a minor adjustment I had made). I was so excited to make these pants that I totally forgot to tissue fit them before I cut my fabric out, so I felt nervous about what the fit would be like as I began to sew them. The sizing for this pattern is XS-XL which, in my experience in pretty rare for a non-knit sewing pattern, but all my measurements fit perfectly into the S category which meant no grading for me. I baste fit the pants together, tried them on, and, miracle of miracles!, they fit really well! I needed to take the waist seams in about 3/8″ or so on either side but everything else was perfect- the crotch depth, the release tucks in the front and the darts on the back. I forgot to apply the changes from the waist of my pants to the actual waistband so when I went to pin that pattern piece to the pants it was too long (hence the head-scratching), but the fix was easy, I just had to chop off a bit of the length at the front edge of the waistband and move my button and button hole marks to match. And I was thrilled to see a pants pattern with diagonal pockets that didn’t gape out on me! As discussed in my last post, I have issues with these types of pockets if the pants are super fitted, but this design has a very loose fit through the hips and thighs and my pockets have stayed in place quite nicely, even without twill tape stabilizing the seam.

I love everything about this pattern- the loose fit that makes it look like you’re wearing a skirt if you stand still with your legs together, the button and tie closure at the side, the smart use of pockets (for the record the pocket at the tie closure side isn’t really useful for putting anything other than your hand in because it opens to the inside of the pants, which is how you get in and out of them, but the pocket on the other side is perfect for putting things into). As I said, I am really excited to make this pattern again. As I said, I should make the shorts next, but I am dying to try the pants in a softer fabric with a slightly shorter hem and with a slightly narrower leg. This make was much quicker than I anticipated and is easy to complete in a day of sewing, even with my french seaming, which has become my go-to finish for pretty much every woven project I tackle. I just love how neat, clean and professional the insides look when I step into a garment that has all those pretty closed seams on the inside.

I highly recommend this new Megan Nielsen pattern, and I am excited to add a few more versions of it to my closet which, by the way, is completely stocked up on sundresses and cute skirts, while the lightweight pants/shorts category has been severely lacking…but thankfully not for long!

I wouldn’t exactly call myself a Burda convert by any means, but I AM willing to take this pattern brand off of my AVOID AT ALL COSTS list. As frequent readers may recall, I was on an unsuccessful internet search for a couple of weeks to find a pleated peg-leg pants pattern to sew, and the only thing I found close to what I was looking for was Burda 02/2012 #103A. After learning about and employing the Palmer/Plestch tissue fitting method, I came out the other side of the Burda wormhole with this fantastic pair of pants. While hunting down the pleated pants pattern on Burda, I ended up pinning a few other pants patterns onto my Pinterest board in the hope that, should the pink pants wind up a win for me, I could eventually tackle more pants designs that I have always wanted in my closet but never thought I was competent enough to make myself.

One pair was a slim fitting trouser design with an elastic waist made for woven fabrics, and the other pair was a wide legged trouser, which is the design that intrigued me most. Aside from rompers with dropped crotches and hammer pants, I cannot recall any time in my life where I have worn a pair of wide legged trousers. Was this a result of one of those fashion “rules” I had become so accustomed to, telling myself that I wasn’t fit to wear them because I wasn’t tall enough and would look too frumpy in them? Or because for my entire life, every single pair of pants I had tried on in a retail store, wide legged or otherwise, had fit so poorly that I never knew what a nicely-made pair of wide legged trousers looked like on my figure and therefore couldn’t formulate an informed opinion? The answer is both, probably.

But see, this is what sewing our own clothes does for us- it gives us, those members of the population born into a body that is shorter/wider/huskier/bootier/leggier/boobier than the average fashion model, the opportunity to relearn for ourselves what actually does feel and look good to us on our bodies. How is anyone supposed to think that wide legged pants could look good on them when all they see in the dressing room mirror is fabric pulling tightly at the thighs, a waistband gaping so far from the lower back that their undies are showing, and pant legs long enough that a giraffe would still need them to be hemmed? I don’t know about y’all but I took that information as gospel and quietly logged it away in my brain so that it would be forever internalized; my body wasn’t made for wide legged pants. This information was added to a very long list of other fashion no-nos that I won’t bore you with now, but that I have recently decided to unpack, slowly and deliberately, one style at a time.

As you can already tell, on the list this week? WIDE LEGGED TROUSERS! Spoiler alert: I totally CAN wear them! THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE!

I learned some really interesting things in the process of making these pants that I think have helped make them look like the winners they are, and others that will make them look even better the next time I make them.

As I said before, I tissue fit them first but because they aren’t fitted through the legs, I really only had to concentrate on the fit at the hips and waist, which was pretty easy. These pants are drafted with a pocket stay (HALLELUJAH!!!!) buuuuut I ended up having to sew the pocket openings down because I totally neglected to insert twill tape at the seams and they started bulging out very quickly (and of course Burda didn’t give me a reminder to do this- clearly I still need a bit of hand holding when making pants). I was quite disappointed in myself for this oversight but then I remembered that I have actually never owned a pair of pants with this kind of pocket opening and shape that behaved well. Even if I had prepped the pockets properly I can almost guarantee that they would have needed tacking down eventually. It’s because I have curvy hips and the pants are quite fitted in the butt and top of the thigh area- on trousers with a looser fit in the hips and legs, the pockets hold their shape and look just fine. So next time I will either change the style of the pocket to more of a jeans style where the opening has a U shape as opposed to a straight diagonal, or I will just eliminate the pocket all together. It seems such a shame because not all pants patterns have pocket stays and I FREAKING LOVE ME SOME POCKET STAYS. But it’s fine. The stays give my waist and stomach a bit of extra structure even if the pockets are completely unusable.

The trousers are also meant to have a long straight crease on both the front and back legs, but because my fabric has a softer, flowier hand, the crease didn’t work well with the texture and I ultimately ironed them out. But the lovely Sallie O gave me an awesome tip for my next pair, which is to edgestitch the crease on the pants to ensure that it stays visible and crisp, and I cannot WAIT to try that!

I have no idea what the fly front for these pants was supposed to look like since I ignored Burda’s 6 word construction method for it (LOL, I can already feel Renee rolling her eyes right now!) and instead inserted my own trusty fly that I use for jeans patterns, but I realize now that I gotta broaden my fly front applications before I make any more fancy trousers. I like the way this fly looks and I’ve gotten really adept at constructing it, but a flat fly front with no visible stitching would look even better on this style of pants. Thanks to Renee for the video tutorial on how to make a flat fly front for my future crispy wide legged trousers- I haven’t used it yet but I am excited to try it out.

The most interesting thing I learned about these pants was adjusting the length and width of the legs to match my petite frame. Yes, I think that virtually anyone can look and feel good in wide legged pants, no matter that person’s shape, height, size or thigh depth, but I do think some attention should be paid to the proportions in order to find the most flattering silhouette. A super wide legged trouser on a 5’10 person is going to have a different aesthetic on someone like me, who is much shorter and can get lost in all that fabric. To accommodate this, I took out a small amount of the width from both sides of each front and back leg to equal about 2 inches at the bottoms of the pant legs, which was graded to nothing at the hips and crotch seam. Just looking at how dramatic the pants looked on the model in the pattern photo made me think that they would look huge on me, and I was right; after baste-fitting the pants together and adjusting the back darts a bit, the pants were looking more like JNCOs than chic trousers, but that small adjustment in the width of the legs made a pretty big difference.

The other tricky part was the length. OY, VEY! This is all about personal preference, but that footless looking thing that some people manage to pull off when wearing very wide legs or bell bottom jeans simply DOES NOT WORK on me. You know what I’m talking about…the pants legs with bottoms so wide and long that they cover your whole shoe and you look like you’re just floating around?

for the record these pants are SEVEN. HUNDRED. DOLLARS.

What looks even worse to me with this type of cut is that the legs are so long that they usually have a visual break at the bottom, so instead of looking streamlined , the pants fall beautifully til somewhere around the ankle area and then the leg folds on top of itself, ruining the whole silhouette (again, my opinion- I just don’t like this look on ME). But on the other end of the spectrum, if you make a wide leg too short (not to be mistaken with a cropped wide leg, which is a totally different style), then you end up looking like JJ from Good Times, and no, that is NOT a good look on me either.

I realized I needed to know exactly what shoe I wanted to wear with these pants and have them just barely graze the top of it when I was standing still and straight, which made the whole hem rise from the floor a little less than half an inch. Even the tiniest difference in hem length dramatically changed the way the pants looked on me, both when standing still and walking, and I really wanted to maintain that sleek straight up and down look throughout the leg with no folds or breaks at the bottom, so I enlisted Claire’s help with getting the hem straight and precise all the way around. She did a really great job and I am very thankful she was around as I stomped through the house in every shoe I owned trying to figure out which ones worked the best.

Now, for the kicker. I figured out the right length of my pants, but I had cut them too short. OOOOHHH, CRUEL FATE! In an effort to anticipate these pants being as long as the patterns I usually make (once I ended up cutting nearly a foot off of the bottoms of the legs), I shortened the pants legs at the knee a couple of inches, thinking I would have plenty of room leftover for the hem, but I was very wrong, and once constructed, my pant legs were too short. I chatted with Renee about applying a turned-under facing to the bottoms of them which seemed smart, but they were still too short- I had no length to spare, and after determining my preferred hem length, I saw that I actually needed to ADD length to the pant legs!

Where is the slap-my-damn-head emoji??

But guess what, this awesome fabric was really forgiving because it’s got a slightly nubby and loose texture, so I was able to turn my facing into an actual hem. I calculated how much extra fabric I needed with seam allowance and additional leg length, then cut four pieces of fabric out (one for each leg piece), and sewed them together as if it was a facing. But instead of sewing it to the bottom of the pant leg and folding the whole facing up to the inside, stitching to secure, I sewed it to the bottom of the pant leg, treated it like a hem by ironing flat where I wanted the bottom of the pants to be, pressed the seam allowance under, folded that part to the inside, then stitched in the ditch to secure the inside of the pants to the seam. So it LOOKS like a facing, but it’s actually added fabric to the length of pants. Don’t know if I explained that properly at all but hopefully a picture will help.

I googled to see if this was an actual technique before I tried to do it, but I couldn’t find any information about adding length to the bottom of a pants leg and then using that length as the hem. But then I thought, well it IS an actual technique if I successfully do it, right? So I tried it and it worked better than I had hoped. The added seaming and facing add a little heft to the bottom of the leg which helps keep it stabilized, and because my fabric was so flexible and un-crispy, I could get away with adding a bit of business at the bottom without it being very visible at all.

Once the pants were complete with finished hem, I tried them on in the mirror and for the first time felt 100% happy with them- honestly I couldn’t believe my eyes! Throughout the fitting process, adjusting the leg width and the hem and trying them on with so many different shoes, I had convinced myself that they weren’t going to end up looking that great on me anyways. I’m not sure if it was my insecure brain bad-mouthing me or the fact that the pants really didn’t look that flattering while in it’s in-between stages or a combination of both, but at some point I made a promise to myself to finish the pants regardless of their assumed negative outcome. I am not a fan of UFOs and my Butthole Bin™ hasn’t had much added to it in the last year. I felt like I owed it to myself to see the pants all the way through to the end, and if they looked utterly ridiculous, maybe I would be able to salvage them by turning them into cropped pants or cutting off all the extra width in the legs and having them be regular slacks. But obviously I didn’t have to do that- they looked so close to how I envisioned them in my head! The high waist and wide legs gave me the illusion of looking longer than I am and the hems perfectly grazed the tops of my shoes. I was happy with the fit of the darts in both the front and back and the legs didn’t hug my thighs too tightly while still providing a slim-looking fit through the butt.

as discussed on instagram, these pants make me feel like a 1940’s beat reporter with a voice like Katherine Hepburn

I LOVED the way they looked, but I only had one last reservation: the pants were…well, not exactly too tight in the waist, but rather perfectly fitted to it due to the fact that I hardly ever add my waistband when I baste-fit my pants (because I’m LAZY) so I have a tendency to overfit that area. I actually prefer snug waistbands to keep everything in place, and this one felt comfortable enough when trying the pants on, but I knew that as soon as I sat down to a meal, that waistband was gonna feel like an iron claw squeezing my guts and creating what we refer to in my household as Lightning Gas™. But the first time I wore the pants out and about, the waistband eased up a lot throughout the evening, probably because this fabric isn’t rigid and has a slightly loose weave. The knees had bagged out a teensy tiny bit (I’m sure only noticeable to me) and were much more comfortable than they were at the beginning of the evening. One other mistake I made when constructing these pants was that I forgot to extend the fly extension lower than what was drafted, which is a mod I make on all my pants since getting my smaller waistband over my wider hips is always an issue once the garment is completed. But with the extra looseness that that the fabric gave the pants after an hour or so of wear, pulling the pants up and down was much, much easier, and now I think they are about as good as they are gonna get!

I have always been quite fearful of sewing pants for myself, which makes very little sense considering I have successfully made nearly a dozen different versions of jeans over the past couple of years. Somehow Closet Case’s Miracle Jeans patterns (here and here) have seemed like a walk in the park compared to starting from scratch with a brand new pattern that has no sew-alongs or hand-holding to accompany it. I’m not scared of the actual construction so much as getting the fit right, and I am sure this fear comes from a lifetime of experience trying to buy RTW pants in commercial stores. I have never, I repeat, NEVER bought RTW pants that fit me perfectly. They have run the spectrum of I can’t believe you’re wearing those out of the house to I guess they look okay if you pull your shirt down over your butt, but never wow, those pants look amazing on you! Either the pockets gape at the sides or they are too tight in the thighs or, most often, the waist is huge while the hips fit snugly, leaving me with a big gap of space between my waistband and my actual body. Doesn’t matter the style- jeans, pleated, flat-front, darted- if they didn’t have an elastic waistband on them then they weren’t going to fit my body very well.

With her patterns, Heather helped me (and hundreds of other people around the world) craft a pair of jeans that fit our bodies beautifully and made us feel and look amazing, but for some reason in my head these successes seemed to only apply to jeans making- I couldn’t imagine those concepts translating to the world of trousers at large. Intellectually I knew this didn’t make sense, so I gave myself a bit of time to work through my fear without adding too much pressure to jump into pants making. I started reading blog posts about people’s journeys making their own pants. I pinned pants patterns that interested me and seemed suitable for my style and shape. And I bought myself a copy of the much heralded Palmer and Pletsch’s Pants for Real People. Some of the material in it is pretty dated, but on the whole the information is reliable and very helpful.

There are a few standout lessons I learned in reading this book which I was able to apply to these pink pleated pants. Number one (and perhaps most important) is tissue fitting. I always side-eyed the tissue fitting concept because I couldn’t comprehend how substituting pattern paper for fabric would translate to anything useful; pattern paper seems too thin, stiff and delicate to temporarily mold to your body. But with tips from the book I was able to get a better understanding of why you tissue fit- it is but one step in the process of creating a pattern that works for your body, and it is super helpful. First of all you are instructed to tape the crotch seams of both the front and back pants pieces to keep the paper strong during the fitting process, which addressed my initial concern about the paper not holding up well to fitting on the body. It is also recommended that you use a length of thin elastic tied around your waistline to keep the paper pattern pieces from falling off and to give you a visual reminder of where your actual waist is in relation to the pattern pieces. You pin the seams of the pattern wrong sides together and then (very very carefully) try them on and make your way to a mirror so you can assess the fit and look. The paper doesn’t necessarily give you a great idea of what your final pants will look like, but it does show you most if not all of the fit issues that the pattern will have, particularly if the waist/thighs/calves/crotch are too big/little, loose/tight, high/low. Once you see where the pattern needs to be adjusted, you make marks on the pattern paper and then add in or take out “fabric” as needed.

Many of these adjustments were familiar to me because I would make them when muslin-ing (or just working directly from my fashion fabric), but making changes on the paper pattern streamlines the process, takes less time than muslin-ing, and keeps you from potentially ruining your fabric. The two most awesome adjustments that I learned about from the book are 1. changing the crotch curve and 2. adjusting the waist height of the pants. Deepening the back crotch curve creates more room in the seat for fuller butts like mine (you can do the opposite if you have a flatter derriere) and WOW what a huge difference it made! I deepened mine by 1/2 inch from the seam allowance and it made for a pant that fit my curves in the back while still giving me plenty of room to walk and sit and bend- they look super fitted but they don’t feel tight at all. Amaaaaazing! Raising the waist of the pants was another impressive fix- it’s a quick and dirty way to keep the pants from sagging or gaping and seems to be a good solution to fixing a swayback as well. Since you have a band of elastic around your waist, it’s easy to see where the paper pattern should be adjusted in relationship to where you want the waistband to be. When I was tissue fitting these pants, the back came up super high on me, several inches past my natural waist, so I was able to cut that chunk out to make them sit better, giving plenty of room for ease and wearability.

After my initial tissue fit, I added more room to the hips, adjusted the width of the legs and calves and adjusted the length of the pieces between the waist and the hip (this created a shorter depth of crotch since mine hung down a little lower than what felt comfortable or looked good) on my paper pattern, then I cut out the new pattern pieces using a black textured fabric that I hoped would be a wearable muslin. Unfortunately, halfway through the process I realized that my fabric was of pretty poor quality and that I would probably never wear them once they were finished, but I didn’t mind- I got some great practice with that first pair and once I saw that the fit was getting closer to what I wanted, I was excited to move on to my pink fabric anyways. I installed my zipper using the Closet Case method she shares in her Jeans Making e-Book, then I basted the pant legs together, tried them on, and made a few more tiny tweaks in the hip and thigh area. After that it was smooth sailing- I just needed to create and attach my waistband and hem the bottoms.

Now the real exciting thing for me here is not that I used the Palmer Pletsch method of making pants, but that I used a BURDA PATTERN TO MAKE THEM. Yep, you read right! (I blame Renee). I have mentioned a dozen times on this blog how much I hate Burda patterns. I love the styles but MY GOD the instructions and construction techniques are just awful- too sparse, sometimes written incorrectly, no line drawings or photos (at least with the online patterns I have purchased) and no additional details on construction techniques whatsoever. When I first started getting into sewing a lot a few years ago, Burda enticed me with all their pretty photos, fashion forward designs, and inexpensive patterns, and I accumulated quite a few of them, even making a couple of dresses that turned out sort of okay, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that I was NOT the intended demographic for their patterns. With the exception of a few simple designs, their patterns are generally not for beginners who are unfamiliar with how to construct a variety of garments. I remember buying a cargo shorts pattern of theirs a few years ago which essentially began with the words “insert your front fly zipper” and no actual instructions that followed. I was like *#^!)#&%$%?!?!?!?!- aren’t you supposed to tell me how to insert a front fly zipper, Burda??? I looked up instructions online but I was too out of my depth, having never made a zip fly before and getting incredibly confused when the details of my pattern pieces didn’t match up with the tutorials I was finding. Needless to say, I threw that project in the Butthole Bin and hadn’t tried another Burda pattern since.

But when I realized that I wanted to make a pair of trousers for myself using the Palmer Pletsch technique, I had a lot of trouble finding a pattern that matched what I wanted. I was looking for a peg-leg trouser, something high waisted with a loose-ish (but not wide) leg that could be rolled up at the ankle, dressed up or down. I wanted pleats, too, a detail that ladies with curves are not “supposed” to wear since pleats can accentuate areas that you “should” want to hide. But of course, as mentioned in an earlier post, I am moving away from all those “rules” and experimenting with clothing that has aesthetics I am attracted to as opposed to details that I think will “work” for my body (/excessive use of quotations). The Big 4 companies didn’t have what I was looking for and neither did any of my fav indie pattern designers, but I found several pattern contenders when I reluctantly started sorting through the online Burda catalogue. I could vaguely hear Renee’s voice in the back of my head rattling off all the amazing Burda patterns she had successfully made over the years, and I started to gain a little more confidence. It had been years since I had last attempted a Burda pattern and I knew my skills as a sewist had grown a lot since then, but I had also noticed that as a I got more comfortable with the craft, I liked to challenge myself more. So. Maybe it was time to give Burda another chance. I chose the Pleated High Waist Pants 02/2012 #103A, (why do they choose the most confusing way to name/categorize their patterns??) added the damn seam allowance (I shouldn’t hate this as much as I do because I already trace all my pattern pieces- adding seam allowance is really not that big a deal for me…and yet!) and went to work.

This is me demonstrating how comfortable and easy it is for me to do a squat in these pants! I do squats in heels all the time, by the way!

Guys. It wasn’t that bad! I used my trusty Closet Case construction method for inserting my zip fly, adding and subtracting certain details to my liking, then I proceeded as usual for any other pair of jeans using the fitting adjustments described earlier in this post. With a solid foundation on how to construct a pair of pants, I didn’t even need Burda’s measly 7 sentence “instructions”, and maybe that’s how most Burda patterns are intended to be used- you use them with your own basic understanding of how to make the garment and they just supply the drafted pattern pieces. I guess there is reason these patterns are so cheap! I would still prefer to have a regular set of instructions included with my patterns, but I know now that I am capable of working from my own knowledge, and I love that the world of beautiful Burda patterns is now open to me again.

As for the pants, I LOVE them! I realize that I have been saying I love my makes way more consistently now which feels so exciting to me. And it’s true! These pants fit great, they are super comfortable, and I freaking love the gorgeous pink color of the fabric. On my last trip to The Fabric Store, the lovely Sara immediately led me in the direction of this hot pink raw silk when I told her I was looking for a bottom-weight fabric for some trousers. This fabric was a little more lightweight than what I was initially looking for but once I saw it, I obviously couldn’t say no (pink is my favorite color, next to yellow, and next to gray. I have three favorite colors, sue me). It ended up working perfectly with this pattern, and raw silk is probably a smarter fabric to wear in a Los Angeles summer than what I was looking for anyways. This is one of the (many) things about The Fabric Store that I love- everyone in the store is knowledgeable about the fabric and they also have really good taste, so whether you are looking for something specific or needing help narrowing down your options, they can steer you in the right direction. The color of this fabric is as brilliant in person as it is in the photos, it has a spectacular hand (soft with just the right amount of nub) and drape (a lot of body without being stiff) which works really well for this pair of pattern.

I didn’t use the waistband pieces of the Burda pattern, mostly because they made absolutely no sense to me- I couldn’t tell where they connected to each other and which piece was supposed to be cut on the fold. Instead I decided to use my waistband from the Ginger Jeans pattern, which was already curved and adjusted to fit my waist perfectly; I shaved off a little of the width and it worked like a dream on these pants. I played around with the idea of adding belt loops but eventually nixed that idea because I wasn’t sure if I would actually wear a belt with them. After wearing them once I can say that a belt is totally unnecessary and I am so glad I didn’t do the extra work of adding them, cause sometimes I am just lazy.

brushing my shoulders off, obvs.

Now that I have successfully made a pair of pants using a fitting technique I had never tried before and a pattern company that I historically hate, I am feeling kind of unstoppable, like I need to make ALL the pants! I already have a project in mind for my next pair- I want them to be a high waisted wide leg pant in another fun color, like yellow or robin’s egg blue. I wish I had some of this raw silk in every color because it would work for SO many projects, and I can only imagine how beautifully it would sew up into a dress. But let me slow down and take it one cut of fabric at a time…I already have two #recarpetDIY projects on the horizon in addition to one of the Pattern Review winners for best dress of 2016 lined up in my queue. And I have like three pairs of shoes that I am ready to try my hand at, too, now that spring sandals are in all the shops and I am feeling newly inspired.

Sigh. Sew little time, sew many projects 😉

edit: OMG I forgot to say: The top is a Grainline Studios Lark Tee in a knit fabric from Michael Levine’s which was just too pretty not to buy when I went shopping there a couple months ago- didn’t blog about it because these tees are super easy and there isn’t much to say about them, but it’s a great pattern with lots of options and I love how this one turned out!

Mom jeans might have a bad wrap. Obviously I blame it on misogyny- I see a connection between women’s supposed declining sexuality as they age and the tendency of our culture to look at mothers as selfless, sexless beings meant only to serve as nurturing figures for others without needs of their own. Believe me, I laughed at that SNL sketch as much as everyone else did and I still think it’s brilliant, but I am also curious about redefining what the concept of Mom jeans mean to me, which is something you can thankfully do when you make your own clothes.

Historically, Mom jeans are designed with a high waist for a snug fit that accentuates the wearer’s figure, coupled with slim legs that are comfortably loose through the knee and calf. On paper, those qualities seem like a lovely combination, but in reality, when paired with those excruciatingly tiny and awkwardly placed back pockets, the look isn’t flattering at all- it’s unsexy, fussy, matronly. While relaxing in my Morgan jeans several weeks ago, I had a thought. I love my masculine-of-centerGirlfriend/Boyfriend jeans because they are comfortable and the construction is really marvelous, but they have definitely been relegated for wear only on my most relaxed and casual days; I feel cute in them, but I don’t feel sexy. My Gingers, however, mostly get worn when I am getting dressed up and I am, as we refer to it in my household, “tryna look cute”. I wondered, Is there a middle ground? Is there a way to meld these two different jeans patterns into a look that feels every bit as comfortable and effortless as the Morgan, but with that figure flattering silhouette that my Gingers offer? Was I essentially trying to create a modern Mom jean? Could I take my knowledge of perfect pocket size and placement and push the Mom jean out of “so gross” territory and into the “so cute” realm?

Well, the only way to find out was to try(curious! ba dum ching!)

On my last trip to LA I grabbed my adjusted Ginger and Morgan patterns and brought them back with me to Savannah, then I marched myself up to my favorite brick n mortar fabric store outside of LA. It’s called Fabrika and it’s amazing; it’s an independently owned shop just down the street from my apartment downtown and, though small, it packs a big bunch. They have a lovely selection of quilting cotton and apparel fabrics, and every time I go there to pick up a random notion or tool I need, I feel sure that they are going to say “Oh, sorry, we don’t carry that”, but lo and behold, they will inevitably pull the item out of some magic hat they keep hidden in the store. I LOVE having my sewing needs met so close to home where I can literally walk out my door and get whatever it is I need within moments. Anyways, I had glimpsed this exceptionally cool denim on a previous trip to the store and knew immediately that it was perfect for my Mom jeans. The denim is bleached and SO soft, it almost feels like a brushed cotton, and although it has a nice and stable medium-weight to it, when you manipulate it in your hand it gives like tissue but bounces back without wrinkling. There is a teensy tiny amount of stretch in this denim, but not enough to accommodate the stretch necessary for skinny jeans, and I wonder if some of the stretch comes from the denim being so incredibly soft that it ends up being more flexible than an un-washed raw denim. The color of this denim is so pretty to me- it makes me think of the beach- but the hand of the denim is what ultimately won me over.

Now, for the pattern hack!

This was a lot trickier than I thought it would be, and since I have no pattern designing background, I was kind of just making wild guesses as to how to meld these patterns into one. The realization of what a complicated project this would be came when I pulled out my back leg pattern pieces and placed them on top of each other to see where I could try and blend in the lines. Apparently there would be no such thing- the Ginger is made for a stretch denim and the Morgans are made for denim with no stretch, so, while it was interesting to see how the pattern lines accounted for the difference in fabric type, it was also overwhelming to figure out where to begin to mesh them into one. In all honesty, my approach wasn’t at all scientific- I just moved forward blindly. I figured that if nothing else, I would learn something in the process.

I relied more heavily on the Morgan Jeans pattern for general shape, but I added length (about 1.5- 2 inches) to the rise so that they would be more high waisted. I added length to the zipper pieces as well, since my waist-to-hip ratio makes it difficult to pull jeans over my hips (adding more zipper length allows the pants to open up lower and gives more room for my butt to get into them). I split the difference between the waist and hip widths of the Morgan and Ginger pattern pieces because I wanted my Mom jeans to be very fitted in the waist and hip area but since I wasn’t using a stretch denim there wouldn’t be a lot of give. I purchased a jeans zipper with wider zipper tape than I am used to and I didn’t realize how much it would affect the fly when using the Closet Case File’s method of creating a zipper fly. As a result, my zipper bulges a bit at the front, but I totally understand what I can do in the future to avoid such an issue (aside from making sure I have a zipper with the standard amount of tape on each side). I added a tiny bit of extra width at the calves of the legs so that the jeans would skim my body the whole way down and not hug my thick calves (the calf area of my Morgans are about 1 cm tighter than I would like). I made a pocket stay for these jeans which entails sewing the whole pocket piece so that it is anchored to either side of the zip fly, and I LOVE it- it keeps your pockets from sliding out the tops of your pocket openings, and it also gives you a nice/tight/snug fit around your hips, which I prefer.

The most trouble I had with making these jeans were figuring out the yoke pieces in the back. I actually completed these jeans in their entirety (sans jeans button, but more on that later) and wore them around for a day before realizing I needed to do some more work on the back pieces to get the right fit. After my first day of wear, the back yoke pieces stretched out and got really bulge-y and gave me this weird bubble-butt effect that puffed up at the seams.

For my Ginger skinny jeans make, I had to redraft the yoke and waistband pieces to accommodate the big difference between my waist and hip measurements- the new pattern pieces I use now have a much deeper curve, but the seams smooth out with the stretch denim since the garment is essentially made with negative ease. I tried to make these same yoke and waistband adjustments to my Mom jeans, but they don’t translate the same to denim with no stretch. So after my first wear, I unpicked all my top stitching at the back yoke and back center seam pieces, cut out the curve of the yokes so that the lines were straighter, then re-sewed the whole thing. It worked like a charm, although I could probably stand to take out even more of the curve on a future pair.

A few others changes to make on my next pair of Mom jeans: I will probably take the seams in at the sides and back center pieces just a bit to create an even snugger fit- since my denim has no spandex, they stretch out over the course of wearing them, and if they started out a bit tighter, there might be less space for them to get bigger. I love the look and fit at the thigh and legs- they just graze my body and then drop straight down to the ankle which is a look I have always coveted in the traditional “boyfriend” jean but never been able to find for myself in RTW. I will keep those parts the same, but I will make an adjustment to the crotch area at the top of the thigh on my next pair.

As you can see in the pictures, the crotch area is a big baggy and has some weird folds and lines that start at the bottom of the zip fly. Initially I thought that maybe the rise was too long, but now I think I can fix the issue by shortening the crotch. The bulge honestly doesn’t bother me too much though, and even less now that I got so many compliments on them these jeans at the Whole Foods! The other thing I love about this make is the back pockets- they are the perfect size and they keep the jeans from looking dated. I used the pockets from my Morgans but raised them higher to accommodate the new rise of my higher waist.

These jeans look so unique to me, which is why I think they stand out enough to get compliments from strangers- they almost look like they are thrifted, because the color and texture of this denim is so vintage, but the silhouette, at least on me, feels new and modern. I think my lack of a jeans button makes them look really fresh, too- I brought a jeans button to Savannah with me but without a proper hammer and piece of wood, I couldn’t get the pieces to fit together and I accidentally busted the nail part that goes inside the button.

The first day that I wore these jeans I just used a giant safety pin that my friend had on hand to keep them closed and it worked fine except that it took me 5 minutes to get in and out of the pants every time I had to pee. Instead of hunting down another jeans button, I skipped over to Fabrika again and found a nice peach colored button instead (that also reminded me of the beach) that I sewed onto the front of my jeans and I love the way it looks. I also skipped the rivets that normally get applied to jeans and I went without the belt loops, too. Initially this was because I was being evacuated from Savannah for Hurricane Matthew and I wanted desperately to bring my new pair of jeans with me to Atlanta, but I only had like, 30 minutes to pack, and no time to make the belt loops. After wearing the jeans for a day around ATL though, I decided that the belt loops were unnecessary and that I liked the stream-lined look of the pants without the extra fixings, so I will keep them this way- no promises on future iterations of this hack, though!

Sending lots of thanks to Sadie Stratton, one of my co-stars on Underground, who helped me get some quick shots of these jeans in the courtyard outside her hotel! I hate asking people (who aren’t Claire) to take photos of me in my makes but she was so sweet about it and got some great shots with a very professional flare shining through in the background! Thanks, boo!

I was asked by Deer & Doe, a lovely pattern company that brought this gorgeous skirt into my life, to review their newest pattern, a pair of skinny high waist jeans called Safran. I had never been asked to review a pattern before, so, even though I felt like I already had a go-to jeans pattern in my arsenal (trusty Ginger jeans by Closet Case Files) I figured that if nothing else, it would be a fun thing to try, seeing as how I am trycurious and all. And WOW, I am so glad that I did! Making this pair of jeans pushed me out of my comfort zone, introduced me to new design features and made me pay more attention to the nuances of different construction techniques. But they also made me appreciate how essential Heather Lou’s jeans-making sew-along is, which she turned into an eBook for purchase. That ebook guided me through my first pair of jeans and has made each pair I’ve sewn since a breeze, including the Safran!

I wont comment on the instructions for these jeans since I didn’t get a finalized version of the booklet before the pattern was released, and I ended up reverting to certain construction techniques that I was more familiar with for the sake of having my pair finished by the pattern’s release date. But I will of course comment on how much I LOVE how they turned out. I have always wanted a pair of cute floral skinny jeans in my closet, but back before I was sewing I had no luck with RTW versions; a brand called Earnest Sewn was the only brand that fit my body well but they only seemed to carry 50 different shades of indigo- no prints or fun colors. Of course now I can sew my own jeans, but finding the perfect stretch denim has been REALLY tricky.

photo taken before I did more fit adjustments in the waistband!

Heather Lou gives some awesome tips in her eBook about finding a good ratio of cotton/ polyester/ spandex to get the stretch recovery necessary for a great fitting pair of skinny jeans, but the options on the market are few and far between when it comes to printed denim. So when I came across this unique stretch denim at The Fabric Store, it kind of seemed like destiny. The floral print is really pretty, but you can BARELY see it- the way that the threads are woven makes the print take on a gray-ish tint, almost like someone colored a picture and then started erasing it, so you can only just see the image peeking through (the photos in this post show the print as being a bit more vibrant than it is in real life). I LOVE IT SO MUCH! The fabric is soft, and it isn’t super lightweight like so many stretch denims/twills that I come across in stores. Safran calls for denim that has at least 20-30% stretch and this one from The Fabric Store seemed like it would fit the bill, so home it went with me!

I was excited to see the size chart for the Safran jeans because they seem to be designed to fit curves- they required no grading to match my measurements, which is rare for me for pants and skirts- I am about two sizes smaller in my waist than my hips in most patterns. I did end up needing to make one adjustment for fit, though. There was a bit of gaping at my waist after I basted my pattern pieces together, but I had of course already cut my legs out and didn’t have enough fabric leftover to re-cut the back pieces. So I created one small dart on each leg back, centered right over the pocket at the waistline, and re-drafted the waistband to fit the new curve of the legs. Because these jeans have no yoke, the adjustment was simple to make and I don’t even mind the look of the dart on the back. I really like the no-yoke design choice on these jeans- it makes them look a bit more streamlined and modern, and I think the design choice works particularly well on this floral denim.

I also LOVE LOVE LOVE the pocket design. I always have trouble with front pockets on skinny jeans- they always try to peak out the top and I am constantly stuffing them back inside the pants, but the way these pockets are drafted, peaking out is pretty impossible. They are topstitched on both the side and opening of the pocket and they are also fairly deep, which helps keep them in place.

Speaking of pockets, I am notoriously finicky about the ones on the back- I’ve got a lot of booty to cover and I can’t leave the job to too-tiny fabric squares. The Safran pockets looked pretty well-balanced for a proportionate booty, but I used my Ginger jeans pockets instead- they are about an inch longer and only slightly wider than the Safran pockets and I think they turned out really great.

I used only one line of topstitching as opposed to the classic two on these jeans as the pattern suggests, and I opted out of using rivets, mostly because I didn’t have any leftover from previous pairs that matched. But they look just fine without them. The fit of these jeans looks incredible IMO, but they were preeeeetty tight in the waistband, and I think there are a couple of reasons for that. For one, I might have made my back darts a little too big when adjusting the waist- I could have taken out half of the width and been fine. Also, this pattern calls for you to make your waistband pieces out of denim, with the waistband AND facing interfaced. This keeps your waistband super snug and not as prone to stretching out over time, but it makes it REALLY hard to get any breathing room if the band is perfectly fitted to your waist, which mine was. In an attempt to get a little more wiggle room here, I moved my button over as far as I could without it looking too funky, and I even wet my jeans and wore them for a while to stretch the waist out a little, but the mistake was in my overfitting of the waist area with my darts and waistband redrafting (living’ and learnin’ over here)! So after I took these photos, I ripped out my waistband, took out my darts and started over: made the darts half the size, and altered the waistband to match the tiny adjustment in the back legs, and I only interfaced one side of the waistband. Now they are SO MUCH BETTER and I can wear them and actually breathe comfortably! It was a lot of extra work to take out the waistband and start over from scratch but it was so well worth it- I have made too many amazing things in my life that didn’t fit quite right and then sat in my closet unworn because I was too lazy/daunted to fix them. These jeans were obviously too good to sit anywhere unworn!

The most important realization I had in making these jeans was FIGURING OUT HOW TO MAKE MY JEANS EASIER TO PUT ON! I never blogged the skinny jeans I made after my first pair, but I kept running into the same issue with them- the jeans looked great on but I could barely pull them up over my butt! I know it was because the waist of the jeans is so much smaller than the hips, but I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what to do to fix it without changing how they fit. And then, on this pair of jeans, it hit me: Just make the zip fly longer! I am sure that some of you are like NO, DUH OF COURSE THAT’S WHAT YOU DO! Unfortunately it has taken me a year to figure this out, and I didn’t have the epiphany til after I had already finished these jeans, but I don’t care- better late than never, right? If I add about an inch to the bottom of the zip fly and make sure I transfer that length to the other necessary pieces, like the fly shield and the interfacing that goes on the jean fronts, it will allow my jeans to open up further, which should account for the extra room I need to get them over my hips. OH MY GOD I can’t wait to try this out on my next pair.

All in all, Safron is a fantastic jeans pattern, and I am most definitely utilizing some of the design elements/ construction techniques on my future jeans, like the awesomely deep pockets and the belt loop construction (Safran has you baste the loops onto your outer waistband before attaching it to the waistband facing, so the loops are caught in the top waistband seam and you only have to stitch them down on the bottom- much less work and a cleaner finish. I also made my loops longer so I had room for a slightly wider belt). I would definitely recommend this pattern for an intermediate sewist/ someone who was confident with jeans-making. I love the original design details and the ease of construction. Because the design features of these pants are so pared down, they are quicker to make than the other jeans I have sewn, and they don’t feel redundant at all: a totally new take on a classic jeans pattern. Many thanks to Deer & Doe for allowing me a backstage pass to their newest pattern!!!!

Many years ago in NYC when I had to attend a lot of red carpet events for work, Claire and I were stumped as to what she would wear if and when she attended functions with me. This was early on in our relationship when we were in our mid twenties, and because her job at the time had no dress code, her wardrobe consisted of vintage t-shirts, plaid button downs, ripped jeans and a multitude of sneakers (honestly, her wardrobe still consists of those things, but it has expanded to include “grown-up” clothes like slim fitting slacks and wing tipped lace-ups). Anyways, back in the day, she had not one piece of clothing suitable for a fancy event. So we went shopping for a suit for her, something that was neutral enough to fit an array of dress codes, with a slightly androgynous vibe. After several hours of her trying on every article of clothing in the Theory store while sighing dramatically, we spent a small fortune on a beautiful black jacket, matching slacks, and a silky plaid blouse. The pants had big pleats in the waistband, were loose-fitting in the thighs and slim at the ankle, and, coupled with the jacket and her Mia Farrow haircut, she looked stunning. She wore that expensive ensemble a total of ONE time before we headed off to Vancouver for 4 years, where the invites to red carpet events and premieres were non-existent. So it has since lived in the back of every closet we have occupied for the better part of 6 years.

Fast forward to this past winter, when I was invited to attend the DGAs and Claire and I were struggling to figure out what she could possibly wear to them. We dusted off her old suit and, though it was fine for a funeral (which she unfortunately had to attend a few months ago), it didn’t really have the glamour and pizazz it once did. Maybe it was because her style has shifted into a more masculine look, but the pleats and stylized curves of the Theory pants just didn’t work anymore. Claire decided not to come with me to the DGAs; shopping for a nice, tailored-looking suit with only a couple day’s notice felt like a nightmare to her. And as much as I wanted her to attend the event with me, the thought of trudging around to retailers that didn’t specialize in making androgynous-looking garments for women’s bodies with someone who hates to shop anywhere that isn’t a sports store seemed pretty horrific to me, too.

Instead, I brought my friend Brittani (who showed up in a GORGEOUS, beautifully fitting suit that she got at Men’s Warehouse- who knew?!) and we had a great time. But it got me thinking- why can’t women rely on retailers to find androgynous clothing? And why has my own understanding of androgyny (until recently) only been defined by women wearing “men’s” clothes? What does androgyny look like for different genders and non-genders and different bodies? I know the answer to at least one of these questions is THE PATRIARCHY, but I was ashamed at the fact that I had never questioned any of this before. Why haven’t more retail stores caught wind of the varying shapes and non-binary identities that appreciate and support fashion? Even Brittani (who’s suit looked so fly and fit her so well and didn’t cost a fortune), was still subjected to being mis-gendered when she was shopping at Men’s Warehouse. Yeah, I get that it’s called Men’s Warehouse. But aside from the obvious fact that gendered business names are totally antiquated and alienating, why should only men be assumed to shop there when so-called “women’s retailers” drop the ball on providing beautifully tailored garments without ruffles and pleats and darts all over them?

I know there are a growing number of small, independent companies that are providing access to clothing catered to a demographic that dresses in an androgynous style. But a lot of that clothing is (understandably) expensive, and therefore not accessible to everyone who wants it. Which leads us to a whole new conversation, one about the global economy being fueled by a wasteful, dishonest and greedy fashion industry, which is in turn powered by a privileged culture that wants more, more, more for less, less, less. There is no simple answer to any of these questions- the fashion industry needs a complete overhaul to become 1. more sustainable for the environment and 2. more humane to the millions of people that shape it’s work force. Furthermore, there needs to be a gigantic shift in our culture’s understanding of the nuances of gender and gender expression. Here is what I was left with, a question that was also a declaration: why couldn’t I just MAKE Claire a suit?! A year ago this would have seemed like such an impossible project that I wouldn’t have entertained it for even a second. But I know that I have become a more capable seamster with each project I tackle, and what’s more, I am up for a good challenge. When I mentioned the possibility to Claire, she said she was on board, so we went to Joann’s Fabrics to see if we could find a pattern that matched the aesthetic of what she was looking for. We narrowed down our pants pattern search to a few different looks and eventually settled on Simplicity 1430. It came with a simple, casual jacket that I thought seemed like an easy pattern to start with, since I had never made a jacket before. Then we went to my fav fabric store (The Fabric Store!!! HEART EYES EMOJIS) in Los Angeles to pick out some material.

the feel of this cotton for the suit was lovely, but the color wasn’t in the right hue.

once we settled on this deeper blue for the suit, we couldn’t agree on the silk fabric for the blouse. she liked this one the most…

…but I thought the yellow in this silk provided a little more complexity to the color scheme, and made it pop just a little

I knew right away which pieces I liked the most, but Claire was unconvinced about my choices until I took photos of her with swatches of the fabric so she could see for herself which ones illuminated her and which ones washed her out. We decided on a medium-weight woven cotton fabric with a tiny little bit of stretch for the suit, and a beautiful printed crepe de chine fabric for the blouse underneath.

The fitting for the pants was tricky, ’cause it’s always harder for me to tailor to someone else’s body than my own- with myself, I can feel as well as see what doesn’t work, but I don’t have that luxury with someone else.

I made adjustments to this muslin several times before we thought this fit was just right. But then I made them up in the actual fabric…

…and I did another adjustment…

…and another adjustment…

…and another adjustment. I think there were more adjustments than just these three pictures, but I got tired of documenting them all, and I was probably a little more than frustrated at the fitting process. CHOOSY CLIENTS, amiright?? (more proof that making a muslin in a comparable fabric of the project you are working on is SO SMART and can save SO MUCH time). We were in real danger of over-fitting these pants because even though the fabric had a little stretch, it wasn’t enough to accommodate a pair of leggings, which I think maybe Claire was secretly looking for? I convinced her that I wouldn’t be able to take them in anymore while allowing her to actually breath and bend her legs to sit down, so we settled here, and I think the silhouette turned out fantastic!

The jacket was another story- it wasn’t a difficult make, it just wasn’t the right look I was imagining. It was baggy and bulky- a lighter weight material would have been better. Even though it ended up looking amazing with the pants, I wanted a jacket with a little more structure, something more tailored to Claire’s body. But she was super happy (and perhaps more importantly, comfortable!) with the final result of the suit- save for a couple complaints about the waistband being a little too loose, which will just have to be adjusted for the next make.

I needed to insert the zipper more to the right, so it peeks out a little.

The funny thing is that this suit was made so that we could attend a wedding in San Francisco, and I bought myself a gorgeous pink polka dotted silk to turn into a dress for the event. My dress was supposed to be the easy make and Claire’s was supposed to be difficult, but it turned out exactly the opposite- her suit ended up being a huge success and my silk dress was so awful I wasn’t even sure if I was going to wear it. Luckily I ended up booking a job that recorded the day of the trip, so I didn’t have to. I put the dress in a pile of donations to Goodwill and hoped that someone, somewhere, would have a flat enough body with no curves or butt whatsoever to get into this thing and have it lay perfectly around their frame. I was so disappointed with it- it was the first time I had made a pattern from this particular company, and I think it was a combination of the wrong pattern for my body with the wrong fabric for the pattern. It was bound to be a disaster. I took a shot just for memory’s sake.

It didn’t help that this silk had a SHIT TON of static cling, no matter what remedy I used to get rid of it!

This dress is one of those projects that I feel doesn’t look as terrible in the photo as it was in reality. You’re just gonna have to trust me- it was bad!

Guess what wasn’t bad, though. THIS SUIT! Claire said she got a ton of compliments on it at the wedding, and I got to hear some of them firsthand when a couple of days later we attended PROM, a big dance party hosted by her basketball league. It was really queer and fun, and this time Claire wore her suit with a blue and white button shirt I made for her, so it also proved how versatile the suit was! Making the suit was a lot of work, but she looks so gorgeous in it that I am actually dying to make her another one. Nothing shows your learning curve more than diving right back in and fixing all the mistakes you made the first time around 🙂

After making some very cute mid-to-high waisted shorts from a vintage Simplicity pattern a spring or two ago, my interest in making pants sky-rocketed. I have always hated shorts on myself; I felt like my legs were too short and curvy for them to be flattering, which looks even dumber written out on my computer screen than it sounds in my head (there is no such thing as “too” anything when it comes to bodies, but whatever, body dismorphia strikes again, etc., blah blah blah). But the simple, non-pocketed silhouette and high rise of the shorts made me feel like my body was proportionate in them and I became pretty infatuated with the look, leading me to believe that I might be able to make the perfect fitting pants for myself that I never seemed able to find in stores. I generally don’t like pants. Skirts and dresses are my go-to, and now that I live in Los Angeles I can almost get away with hardly ever having to wear pants except on the chilliest of winter days (think 50 degree-age, which is about as low as it gets in the day time). That said, I have come to appreciate the ease and functionality of wearing pants more often now that I have a dog that needs walking three times a day. It took me years to finally cave in and invest in some skinny jeans, and even then I wouldn’t consider a pair unless they had a good stretch content and a high waist (the low rise, butt-crack threatening, boot-cut fit of the late 90’s and early 2000’s was a real travesty). But sometimes I don’t want to wear jeans! Sometimes I want to wear bottoms that are a little more classic, that don’t leave seam lines up and down the sides of my legs after several hours of wear, that feel comfortable AND slimming, but don’t leave a 3 inch gap in the waist area from the difference in size between my waist (small) and my booty (not as small). Perfecting the Simplicity shorts pattern was the first inkling I had that I could make an awesome pair of pants for myself that would fit well and make me feel like I looked great, but I didn’t actually take action til Gertie’s second book came out. In it was a pattern for a pair of slim fitting cigarette pants, which I think is pretty similar to a pattern she released through Simplicity before her second book was available. I adore Gertie’s patterns, and have been hooked on her work ever since I got her first book of vintage patterns a few years ago. Hers was the first set of patterns I used that seemed to fit my body right out the gate- they required little to no adjusting, unlike the patterns from the big companies which always seemed to run at least a size too large and never fit my proportions very well. Gertie’s waist-to-booty ratio was a dream come true for me (her pencil skirt pattern fit me so beautifully I think I teared up when I first tried on my wearable muslin), so I had high hopes for her pants pattern to work well for me, too. Fortunately, it did not disappoint. The fit was incredible, and I didn’t have to grade between sizes or anything. That, however, was only the beginning of my pants learning curve.

Cue dramatic music.

The first muslin I made was out of some leftover wool herringbone with a slight stretch, and I was secretly

these don’t look nearly as bad as they feel

hoping they would be wearable, cause the material was great, and who doesn’t love a wearable muslin?! I finished the pants, held my breath while I tried them on, and squealed cause they fit so beautifully- no gap at the waistband! comfortable! slimming! go, team! But holy shit, they were itchy as all get-out. Which is no surprise since they were made out of WOOL. ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘no big deal, I will just line the pants with a silky type fabric and I will be good to go!’ I bought some inexpensive lining material and looked up some tutorials on how to line a pair of pants. But umm…lining slim fitting cigarette pants isn’t actually a “thing”.

Like, maybe people have done it with success, and kudos to them, but for me, it just wasn’t happening. Nevermind the fact that my lining wasn’t the right kind of material and didn’t have enough give in the right directions to fit comfortably over my legs, but they also just kind of bunched up inside the wool and twisted around and got caught in all the wrong places, even when tacked down to the wool pants’ seams. It was kind of like trying to wear a slip under a pair of tights; the pants were too slim fitting to allow room for what was essentially an entirely new pair of pants.So the wearable muslin was obviously not gonna work (and no, I was not the least bit interested in wearing pantyhose underneath my pants to reduce the itch factor- what am I, my mother??) but at least I knew that the pattern fit perfectly.

I decided to try the pants in a better fabric, this time a high quality stretch denim, which worked much better, except that now, with a thinner material than the wool, I started to obsessively over-fit the legs of the pants, taking them in more and more, over and over again, so that when I finally finished them, they were so tight that not only could I BARELY stuff a foot through the leg opening, I could also barely bend over. The calves of these pants looked like they were painted on. Which perhaps is fine for a photoshoot or something, but not very realistic or functional for every day life.

admittedly weird choice in zipper color.

I’m not sure if these jeans are wearable cause I haven’t worked up the energy to spend the 5 minutes it takes to put them on, I am guessing no. I am considering cutting them off below the knee to turn them into a 50’s style capri, and maybe the fit will be better then, but so far they are still folded on a hanger, mocking me in the corner of my craft room.

Okay, so THIRD pair of cigarette pants! Moved onto to a green stretch cotton twill, kept the pockets (although I hate pockets on trousers) and this was my very first success, except for one weird adjustment that needs to be made: the front seam

no idea why the color looks messed up in the photos- in person you can’t see it, i swear!

dips down a bit, and rides on my waist slightly below the sides and back, so I am going to add just a touch more material to the front seam allowance to see if that helps at all- it’s not the rise or crotch cause everything fits perfectly everywhere else, and if the crotch were any higher I would feel like I was wearing a front thong. Otherwise, the pants are perfect!

With the success of this pair, I decided to try another in a fabric with the same amount of stretch made with a beautiful paisley pattern. I fall in love with pants like this all the time at JCrew, but their bottoms consistently fit me so terribly that I stopped even trying them on years ago. Anyways, by this point I was an old pro at making this pattern, and I was super excited to add these perfected pants to my wardrobe, so in only a few hours over a couple of days during the Christmas holidays I was able to sew them up and give them a try. I waited to attach the waistband to make sure there were no fit issues and…I…couldn’t…even…pull them up…over my KNEES! In horror, I stretched and ripped the pants to try and pull them at least up to my waist, but I couldn’t even get them past this here booty, despite the fact that I had made this pattern several times by this point and I knew that the sizing was perfect. And then I realized my (HUGE) mistake…in my haste to get this pattern started, I didn’t pay attention to the direction of stretch in the fabric, which just happened to run perpendicular to the selvage as opposed to parallel to it, the way most knit fabrics I have worked with run. So my pants could stretch real long from top to bottom, but there was practically no give whatsoever to go around my legs, meaning it was nearly impossible to pull them up over the widest parts of my body.

see?

Oh, was I mortified! But also kinda sorta happy to have learned a valuable lesson in all of it- ALWAYS CHECK TO SEE WHICH DIRECTION YOUR STRETCH GOES WHEN SEWING WITH KNITS. Perhaps, dear reader, this can be a lesson to you (if you haven’t learned it already, which you probably have, because NO, DUH) so you wont have to waste some beautiful fabric on a really silly oversight like I did. I should have KNOWN something big and terrible was about to happen with this garment. In hindsight, I realize that I have a tendency to make lots of little mistakes before I make big ones. Case in point: with this one pair of pants which, as I mentioned, I had already made SEVERAL times, I managed to sew the back of the pants to the front of the pants with the wrong sides together, AND THEN, once I took out all my stitching, I managed to sew the two front legs together at the inseam, effectively created a long, very ugly denim skirt. Quick and fast sewing is just not really my forte, and the bigger of a hurry I am in, the more mistakes I am apt to make. Coincidentally, the more mistakes I make, the less likely it is that the garment will actually be wearable. It’s all in the math, I guess.

So. In total, we have one pair of jacquard pants ruined, one (possible capri) denim that I most likely wont be able to sit down in without getting a yeast infection, one perfect, pocketed pant in green khaki, and an itchy herringbone wool w lining that, having tried on again so many months later with new eyes, I’m thinking might actually be salvageable. The lining inside is too tight around the calves, making the fabric pull when I walk, but I think I might have enough seam allowance left in them to take them out just a bit more. If I can get them to *comfortable* status, I will definitely wear them, because the fit is great and not as funky looking as I remember them being (although this last try-on has further convinced me that I need to take the zipper in just a touch). WOW! Another lesson learned! All garments thrown into the BUTTHOLE BIN should be tried on no less than seven weeks later to reassess fit, functionality and likability. This wont be the first time I reacquainted myself with a discarded unfinished garment, only to find out that it was indeed worth rescuing. I like doing that. Cause I HAAAATE throwing disasters into the BUTTHOLE BIN.

Oooh, that’s a really great idea for a future post, eh? Taking a walk down BUTTHOLE BIN lane?